


Masters of their own domain

by evakuality



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Boy Squad, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-14 21:25:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15397785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evakuality/pseuds/evakuality
Summary: “Get out of my fucking way, Jonas,” Isak is saying as he pushes the box he’s holding into the back of his friend.  Even stumbles to a halt behind him, alerted by Isak’s complaint to the sudden blockage in the stairwell above him.  Jonas, for his part, flips Isak off behind his back, making Isak shift the box he’s holding with a groan, pressing it against the wall to steady it.  That shift pulls the t-shirt Isak’s wearing hard against the planes of his back, which is right in front of Even’s eyes as he stands on a lower step, and that in turn makes Even’s mouth go dry.Aka, a week in their life after they move into their new apartment.





	1. Monday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Crazyheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazyheart/gifts).



> So, it's crazyheart's birthday today and I wrote this little thing for her. I hope you like it, Camilla! It's not explicit yet but it's going to get there by the end :) Have a great day and a great year to come <3 
> 
> (Of course, I chose to write something that needs lots of careful detailed research on Norwegian ways of doing things when my Norwegian guru couldn't be called on. I googled so much stuff and pestered so many people (including my wonderful beta readers who were very patient and helpful), and yet I'm sure some things have probably slipped through. So please, if I got some bits wrong do let me know and I'll fix them)

“Get out of my fucking way, Jonas,” Isak is saying as he pushes the box he’s holding into the back of his friend.  Even stumbles to a halt behind him, alerted by Isak’s complaint to the sudden blockage in the stairwell above him. Jonas, for his part, flips Isak off behind his back, making Isak shift the box he’s holding with a groan, pressing it against the wall to steady it.  That shift pulls the t-shirt Isak’s wearing hard against the planes of his back, which is  _ right _ in front of Even’s eyes as he stands on a lower step, and that in turn makes Even’s mouth go dry.

It should actually be illegal, Even muses, for someone to be that hot.  It’s not exactly fair to innocent, susceptible people who are just trying to move into their new apartment.  He’s not sure why he’s so affected by this today, either. It’s not like Even doesn’t get to see Isak and his body in all sorts of states, dressed and undressed, but there’s something about seeing it in action like this that just does something to him.

Isak had discarded the maroon hoodie after their first trip up the stairs, complaining that he was far too hot for that anyway, and ever since then Even’s been dying.  The t-shirt he’s wearing is white and it has been hot in the stuffy hallways and stairwells of the building. Carting boxes, mattresses and bed bases isn’t exactly easy, gentle work so they’ve all worked up a sweat.  Which means that sweat has plastered the shirt to Isak’s back, and … well, Isak has muscles. Definition, anyway, and whenever he picks up a box those muscles move a bit, flexing, taking up the slack. Looking really fucking good.

“Fuck,” Even mutters to himself as he takes in the long length of Isak’s back, the t-shirt so tight, and the muscles straining as he moves.  They start moving again, whatever was holding them up now gone, and Even breathes a sigh of relief. He can dump this box that’s weighing him down, and he can maybe try to forget about Isak and his many perfections for a while once they’re not there literally right in front of his face.  Because he has a job to do, dammit, and Isak is far too distracting like this.

Isak looks back down at him while simultaneously pushing back off the wall and kicking his knee up under the box he’s holding.  The grin he sends down is at once cheeky and exhilarated. Even understands. This is all Even’s stuff they’re carrying now, Isak’s having all been dumped in the first run up the stairs, and there’s something amazing in the knowledge that they’re going to be living together, joining all their stuff together.  Here, in their own space.

“How are you holding up, old man?” Isak asks.  He’s moved before Even can even register it, which now puts his ass at Even’s eye level.  He’s not sure if that’s better or worse than the delightful shifting muscles of Isak’s back.  Isak teases Even with a slight wiggle of his ass as he moves off up the stairs again, and it’s definitely worse than the back, Even thinks.  This is really unfair to people such as himself who delight in beautiful things. Or maybe Isak’s not deliberately teasing at all, merely living his usual sexy life, and Even is just a little too keyed up for his own good.  Whatever. The fact is that Isak’s ass looks really damn good in those pants, particularly as they cling to it a little with all the sweating and the way his legs have moved when he’s climbing the stairs, and that combined with the t-shirt showing off every inch of his glorious back is making Even feel things he doesn’t need to be feeling with all these other people around.

“I’m perfectly fine,” Even says, though he’s aware that the breathiness of his voice is probably giving him away.  It’s not that he’s unfit exactly, but he’s certainly more used to being somewhat more sedentary. Preferably doing much less active workout-esque things.  Even so, the fact that he’s almost breathless while Isak’s barely breathing faster would be embarrassing if Isak wasn’t so sexy. Isak’s sexiness makes up for a significant amount of potential embarrassment, Even thinks.

They finally get to their apartment and, after dropping his box in the kitchen, Even throws himself in relief onto the bed they’d set up on one of their earlier trips.  Isak laughs, leans against the doorframe and smiles over at Even. His face is alight, and he looks so happy here that Even can’t help grinning back. Jonas has sunk to the floor with his back to the wall by the window, and Magnus and Mahdi are shuffling inside with their own contributions.

“Thank fuck that’s over,” Mahdi says as he carefully places his box on the pile labeled  _ main room. _  “You couldn’t have picked a place with an elevator?”

Isak shrugs.  “Couldn’t afford it,” he says, pushing off the doorframe and coming to the bed to sink down next to Even.  “Besides, it wasn’t that bad.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Magnus adds now.  “You work out all the time. The rest of us mere mortals are dying here.”

“Yeah, baby,” Even says.  “You should take pity on us weak souls.  Not drive us so hard.” He runs his hand up along Isak’s back and shivers as the muscles react to his touch.  

“Useless, the lot of you,” Isak says, laughing.  “You can all go away now,” he adds, looking at Even with affection, and leaning into his touch.  “Come back at like 19 and we’ll have a beer.”

“Oh I get it,” Jonas chimes in, climbing to his feet.  “We do all the hard work and now you want to be alone to bang in peace.”

Isak grins, sitting back against Even and scuffing his feet against the edge of the bed.  The shrug he gives suggests Isak’s not averse to the idea of banging

“Just one beer?” Magnus asks, pouting.  “We fucking slaved for you guys.”

“Pizza too,” Isak says, rolling his eyes.  “You’re so demanding. Come back on Friday maybe and we’ll make it a proper party.”

“Yessss,” Mahdi crows.  “A proper party sounds chill.”

“You’ll bring your own beers, though,” Isak says.  “You definitely owe ... like … so many. But now you should go.”

“Yeah yeah, you want your dick fest, we get it,” Magnus says as they all make their way around the boxes and head for the door.  

Isak flips him off and flops backward onto the bed watching them as they fight good naturedly on their way out.  From Even’s point of view, things are looking really promising as far as banging goes. Which sounds  _ really _ fucking great to Even, despite his aching back and protesting knees.  He’s romantically excited about the idea of having sex in their apartment for the first time as soon as possible.  He wants to christen the place, make it truly their own. So he’s a little disappointed when, as soon as the boys have gone, Isak leaps off the bed and starts bustling around the tiny space.

“What are you doing, baby?  I thought banging was on the agenda,” Even says, letting his disappointment seep into his voice.  

Isak laughs.  “Maybe later,” he says.  “Right now, I want to get this place sorted out.”

True to his word, Isak starts opening boxes and spilling contents out into the apartment.  Soon, there’s nowhere to move and Even is reduced to perching on the edge of the bed and staring around at the disarray.

“You do remember you invited our friends over to have some beers later?”

Isak waves a hand in dismissal.  “Mmmm, it’s fine, baby. You go get beers and I’ll do all this.”

Even’s almost ashamed at how quickly he darts out of the apartment.  He’s exhausted, his body worn out from the several treks up and down the stairs that they’ve already made today, and the thought of unpacking all those boxes was giving him a headache.  Or, not unpacking exactly, since Isak has apparently done all of that already. But putting all that stuff away, working around the many piles Isak has made in the room. Isak, on the other hand, seems like he could keep working for hours.  Just the thought of trying to keep up makes Even feel like falling over and sleeping for roughly a hundred years.

So he focuses on his task, one which he can do and Isak can’t.  It’s ridiculous how pleased that makes Even. Because Isak is scarily competent at literally everything they’ve done today, hefting heavy boxes as if they were nothing and working steadily as if he didn’t need breaks or a rest or anything.  But he’s not old enough to do this bit yet and so Even knows this is one job he’s essential for. It takes Even a while to locate somewhere which sells beer, but he’s not all that desperate to be home and sucked into that mess again. So he takes his time finding the place, and buying some beers.  He knows Isak promised the boys beer just so he could have some himself instead of the sparkling wine Even bought because he thought it was romantic, but he wants Isak to be happy so Even’s happy enough to go along with it. Once he’s made his purchases, Even heads back to the apartment, determined to help Isak finish sorting it out.

When he gets back, Even can’t help gasping as he pauses in the doorway, because everything that was on the floor is in its place and there’s barely any clutter left lying around.  There are a few boxes left unpacked in one corner, and several more leaning against the wall, broken down and ready to be removed, and that’s about it. Somehow, in the hour that Even’s been gone, Isak has managed to get it all cleared away.

“Are you magic?” he asks, putting the beer down just inside the door and reaching out to pull Isak into his arms.  Isak finally looks as exhausted as Even feels, and he melts into Even’s embrace. He laughs, a small tired thing.

“No.  I just had it all categorized when I took it out of the boxes and from there it was quick.”

“I fucking love you,” Even says, in awe of the way Isak’s brain works.

“I just wanted to make it nice,” Isak says.  “You know, for our first night here.” He looks embarrassed.  “It’s my first real home. At least since my dad left.”

“I know, baby,” Even says.  “It looks great.”

“Thank you,” Isak says, letting his arms wind around Even and smiling at him.  “I can’t wait to live here. With you.”

He kisses Even then, soft and sure, and Even is finally able to let his hands trail over the muscles he’s been admiring all day.  Isak shivers, laughing against Even’s lips. “I’m so fucking tired though,” he says. “I think I need a nap before the boys come back.”

Laughing too, Even takes his hand and flops down onto the bed with him. “It’s okay, baby.  We have a couple of hours, so let’s sleep a bit.”

Even kisses the curls that have matted a little on Isak’s head as he drifts off to sleep.  There’s time, he thinks; time for other things later. Right now, it’s enough that they’re together in their own space.


	2. Tuesday

The morning dawns bright and clear, and Even stretches, groaning.  His legs feels like lead, aching like he’s run a marathon, and not for any good, sexy reasons because they’d both been too exhausted last night to do anything that required lots of preparation.  His arms are tight, protesting against the movement when he lifts them above his head, and his back feels like there’s a metal ring surrounding it, squeezing tight as he twists to look at the spot where Isak should be lying.

Even may have had a fantasy about how this morning would go.  That fantasy may have involved staring lovingly into his boyfriend’s eyes as he blinked grumpily into consciousness.  It may have involved sunlight streaming into the room, and naked love making on top of their very own bed in their very own home.  Even may even have ‘accidentally’ forgotten to close the curtain last night just to help that fantasy along. So it’s something of a disappointment when he looks to the side and there’s no sleepy, cuddly Isak lying there beside him.

Pouting, Even forces his stiff, sore body to the edge of the bed and winces as he gets to his feet.  There’s music coming from the direction of the kitchen, some 90s hip hop, and Even laughs. Isak must want to be fired up if he’s playing that stuff.  It’s not the mellow tunes Even prefers, but the heavier more aggressive beats Isak has always said makes him feel cool and powerful.

Stumbling in that direction, Even chances a look at his phone.  It’s barely 8am, and Isak is up and making lots of noise? This is so far out of his experience that Even is left confused.  What happened to his soft, cuddly, sleep-obsessed boyfriend? The one who would rather lounge in bed til it’s closer to afternoon than morning?  The one who complained if Noora or Eskild played any sort of music before the clock ticked over to midday?

“Baby?” Even whines as he leans in the doorway to the kitchen and takes in what’s going on.  “It’s early?”

Isak spins around, laughing as he spots Even.  “You look like shit,” he says, as he moves closer to peck him on the lips and squeeze his arm before turning back to the open fridge.  His phone is hooked up to a small speaker set on the counter and surrounding it are a carton of milk, a block of brown cheese, some bread and one box of half-eaten pizza from last night.  Isak’s fully dressed (in another t-shirt today, this one even smaller than yesterday’s, which makes Even’s heart pound just a little), and is humming as he squats in front of the fridge (showing off that ass of his again, which also conspires to do things to Even which is completely unfair at this time of the day) and leaning in with what looks like a cloth.  Resting on the floor beside him is a small bowl of water.

“Thanks,” Even says, staring at Isak in confusion, not even bothering to add his usual protest to his voice at the suggestion that he looks less than perfect.  “What’s all this about though?” he asks. 

Isak squints back over his shoulder at Even.  “What does it look like?”

“It looks like you’re cleaning?” Even says.  “Which is a bit strange, because you used to complain bitterly whenever it was your turn to do chores at the old place.”

“I still did them, though,” Isak says, irritation at being called out like that clear in his voice.  “And this is my very own place, and my very own stuff.”

Even nods, the fog of sleep finally lifting enough so that he’s starting to get it.  Just like last night, Isak is claiming this space as his own. As he’d said before, this is his first real home, or the first he’s chosen for himself, and he’s trying to make it work for him.

“Yeah it is,” Even says.  “It’s our place and our stuff.”

Isak backs out of the fridge and stands up, dropping the cloth in the bowl beside him as he does so.  He comes up close to Even, wraps his arms around his waist, and kisses him properly. Finally. Even lets his own arms find their accustomed place at Isak’s hips, and squeezes in appreciation.

“Mmmm,” Isak agrees, smiling out of the kiss.  “Our place.” He kisses Even again, letting their bodies press together in a way that’s very pleasant, before pulling back and turning to his work again.  “I want to get this done so we can go shopping,” he says. “We need to buy food, Even.”

His eyes are giddy as he looks over his shoulder again and grins.  The idea sparks something in Even. “Our own food,” he agrees, and he can hear the delight in his own voice too.  It’s suddenly vitally important to be getting their small space ready to live in, and Even  _ gets it _ finally, what Isak’s trying to do.  “What do you want me to do?” he asks.

Isak leans on the counter and looks around.  “There’s not really enough room for two of us to work in here,” he says reluctantly and Even sighs, too.  If he can’t have his fantasy of waking up together bathed in glorious sunlight and making love on their first morning here, he’d at least have liked to enjoy the fantasy where they work side by side fixing up their place and making it a home.  He can feel his face falling, and Isak sees it too because he comes back over, kisses Even again and says, “Maybe you could put some stuff on the walls.”

“On the walls?” Even asks.  “Like art and shit?”

“Like your closet was at your place,” Isak says.  “I’d love this place to look like that.” He looks vulnerable for a moment.  “It always felt so much like a home in your room,” he adds. They both ignore the implied critique of how Isak’s room had looked.  The stark, sparsely decorated walls, and the few things he had set up around the room, always spoke of transience, like Isak never really saw it as his space to live in.  “I can’t do it,” Isak continues, unconsciously echoing the thought. “I’m not good with like, creativity and shit. But you are.”

“Okay, baby,” Even says, his voice husky.  He pours himself a glass of water, swallows his pills which have already found a home in the cupboard where their dishes will go, then grabs a piece of leftover pizza.  He’s munching it as he moves into the main room and considers the blank walls surrounding him. 

He eyes the wall opposite the bed with a critical gaze and finally decides this is where he wants the stuff to go.  Carefully, he digs out the small box of papers and things he’s collected from his old room, and a little hunting unearths the smaller pile of similar things Isak has brought with him.  Starting from the middle of the wall, Even carefully places everything, making sure that together it all speaks to him of a connection between the two of them. That this is a true representation of both of their previous lives, and the one to come while they’re here.  He places a picture of the two of them he’d sketched recently in pride of place, making sure that they can see it properly from their bed.

He’s around thirty minutes into the job when he hears his phone ping, and laughs when he sees Isak’s instagram post.  It’s endlessly endearing that cleaning at this time of day is something Isak is this proud of. The freezer is fairly gross, Even admits as he examines the picture, and he’s glad Isak is fixing it.  He’s right; this is their space and no-one else is going to fix these sorts of messes for them. It gives him a shiver of excitement to know that they’re in charge, for better or worse. It’s genuinely all up to them.

“You look hot when you work,” Even calls out to Isak, who comes into the room he’s in literally just to roll his eyes where Even can see it.

“You can only see my hand,” he says, nodding at the phone Even’s holding.

Even shrugs.  “It’s a really hot hand,” he says and Isak rolls his eyes again.  Then he takes in what Even’s been doing on the walls, his eyes soften and he smiles, a small satisfied bloom of pleasure.

“That looks really good,” he says, letting himself settle with his back against Even’s chest as they both stare at the wall.

“It’s not done yet,” Even says, letting his lips skim Isak’s neck, making him shiver, “and there’s space there for more stuff.  Like a living wall of our lives.”

He can feel rather than hear the contented sigh Isak lets out at that.  “A living wall,” he echoes. “I can’t wait to add more stuff.”

Even smiles, burying his nose in Isak’s hair, and breathing in his presence.  “Me too,” he says.

They stand like that for a few moments, just soaking in their new place with the things Isak has so carefully set out around the room and the wall Even is creating.  It’s a good start, Even thinks. It’s a space they’re building together. Then Isak breaks the moment, pulling away to go back to the kitchen and his revolting freezer.  So Even turns his attention to the wall again. To keep building that living art work for the two of them, and make sure he does his part to make the place pleasant and home-like.


	3. Wednesdsay

It’s been pleasant, living in their little domestic bubble.  If Even had secretly been a little worried about their ability to maintain their home, and the blissful domesticity he’d always associated with ‘moving in together,’ he’s been proven wrong over the last two days.  That has been mostly down to Isak’s scarily efficient new persona. He’s been diligent in cleaning their space from top to bottom and in making sure that every single box has been unpacked, their contents stashed around the small, cramped space within the first two days and all the boxes removed from their home.  It’s not that Even ever thought Isak would be a complete slob, of course. He’s always kept his space tidy enough and clean enough. But it’s never been  _ quite _ this enthusiastic, and there’s never been  _ quite _ this amount of scrubbing.

True to his word, Isak had dragged Even out yesterday to buy food and they had both giggled in dizzy excitement when they’d placed their selections in their cart to buy.  Grocery shopping shouldn’t be this exciting, Even had thought, and yet here they were, getting overly worked up about bread, potatoes, and salted licorice. Every purchase had them both grinning as they made their selections and weighed up their options.  Isak’s face had gone through a complicated series of expressions when Even had picked up some cardamom, wiggled his eyebrows and thrown it in with the rest of their purchases. Exasperation had warred with fondness and a certain giddy delight, and Isak’d eventually nodded with a small, contented smile on his face.  That, Even counted as a win.

When they’d arrived home, Isak had lovingly stored every item in their fridge, freezer or pantry (which was, in truth, just a cupboard dedicated to their food stuffs), while Even had passed each one to him.  There had been small arguments about whether their cans should be on the left or the right, or where bread should be stored. Even maintains to this day that it’s barbaric to keep it in a freezer, but Isak had won that particular one by pointing out that frozen bread is better by far than stale bread and that anyway, they didn’t really have the space to store it all on the counter or in the cupboard.  In hindsight, Even thinks maybe they didn’t need to buy quite so many loaves. Once they were all in their freezer, there wasn’t a lot of space for the other stuff. So maybe they should just buy less at a time for a more workable, less frozen solution.

So, here they are.  It’s evening on Wednesday, they’ve just finished dinner, and are sitting back in the chairs next to their tiny table.  The plates are covered in drying sauce and their mugs are gathering coffee grounds in the edges around the bottom. Even’s ignoring it, wants to soak up this moment, even thinks about filming it for his special project.  They may have sat here by this tiny table eating dinner together already, but Even’s certain he’s not going to get enough of it, ever. He glances over the table at Isak, who looks relaxed and happy and he grins.

“That was amazing, baby,” Even says, letting all his fondness seep into his voice.  He’s enjoying this so much. The being here with Isak, cooking their own food, doing their own chores.  He’s maybe not as into it as Isak is, but there’s something special about working with their own stuff in their own place that  _ is _ intoxicating.

“Thank you.” 

Isak grins, wide and sure, and stretches so Even gets to see every inch of his torso and a small band of skin where the t-shirt doesn’t quite meet the low slung pants.  That’s its own sort of torture, if you ask Even. Isak’s so unselfconscious when he does it, completely unaware of what he’s doing, and yet it still makes Even feel things, particularly here where they’re alone and no-one can possibly interrupt.  Even’s about to suggest moving the couple of feet to the bed when Isak abruptly stands up, gathers the dishes and heads into the kitchen.

Pouting, Even follows.  “Are you sure you want to do this now,” he says as he watches Isak pouring water and suds into the sink.  “I can think of better things to do.”

He winds his arms around Isak’s waist, pulling him back against his body, letting him feel the stirrings of his dick.  Isak laughs, presses back, and Even is hopeful for a few seconds, but then Isak shakes his head.

“If I do it now, it’s done,” he says.  “I don’t want to end up with …”

His face hardens, and he turns his attention back to the sink.  He’s suddenly very interested in what he’s doing; turning the water off, putting on gloves and grabbing the first dish to be washed.  There’s a set to his shoulders and a mask to his face that he only wears when he’s thinking about his family. They’ve improved their relationship a lot over the last few months, and Isak has enjoyed some very pleasant time spent with them.  But there’s still a rough, sore spot sitting in his heart where his childhood lives, and Even knows Isak doesn’t like being reminded of those times. He doesn’t like the memory of the way things would pile up and the house would become unclean and chores would take hours when they finally got done.  The memory of a time when Isak tried to keep things neat, but they spiralled out of control whenever his mother was particularly bad.

There’s a logic to what Isak’s doing here, then.  It’s not just a sweet pride in his new home; it’s also a fear that if he lets things slide at all that Isak will end up living in a house that’s close to what he’s come from.  So Even lets him go, reluctantly drops his arms from around Isak, kisses his neck and lets him be.

He pulls out his phone, takes a step back to frame the image properly so Isak’s the main focus, then starts to film.  Isak glances sideways at him, a soft smile blooming on his face and an exasperated tilt to his head.

“What are you doing?” he asks, dipping a bowl in the warm water and starting to clean it.

“Documenting our life, baby,” Even says with a fond grin.  “This is going to be a best selling movie one day, remember.”

“Fucking dork,” Isak says, turning back to his work, his hands sure and speedy as he washes everything.  He places each item to the side as he finishes, looks back at Even and grins every time he notices that he’s still filming.  Even laughs through it all, delighted that Isak’s relaxing again. Delighted that the filming seems to have distracted him from his melancholy memories.

“I swear, Even, you already have enough footage to bore all of Oslo for weeks,” Isak adds now.  “Why do you need me doing the dishes?”

“Boring? Oh no, baby.  This is art,” Even says, finally satisfied with the footage he has and pocketing the phone again.  He picks up a cloth to dry the dishes and steps comfortably into position next to Isak.

Even may not have got his desire earlier this week to set the kitchen up side by side in a romantic movie moment, but he certainly gets  _ this. _  He gets to work side by side with Isak, in tune with one another while they do these banal tasks. The two of them work well together, a routine already in place as they set their tiny home to rights.  Isak always washes, adamant that he’s better at it ( _ I’m the master, Even; you can’t compete with that _ ), and so Even settles happily into the other role.  It’s peaceful, nice. 

“I like filming the small moments,” Even says now, glancing sideways at Isak’s profile where he’s concentrating on a particularly stubborn piece of caked-on food.  “I like the bits of day to day life with you. It makes everything feel real.”

Isak’s still focused on the dish he’s washing, his tongue poking out between his teeth, and his hands never faltering in their scrubbing.  But his lips curve into a smile, and he nods.

“I get that,” he says eventually, once he’s satisfied with the cleanliness of the plate and hands it to Even.  There’s a happy certainty in his eyes as he looks at Even. “Those are the good bits.”

“The only good bits?” Even asks, earning him a chuckle from Isak, who shoots him a cheeky grin.

“No,” he says.  “But they’re the only good bits I’ll let you film.”

Grinning in his turn, Even puts the now-dry plate away.  He might have to test that theory, sometime in the future.  Just for the art and posterity, of course, not for the project.  Because all Even wants is to record all the good bits of their lives to live in and remember as they grow older.  And to record forever just how sexy Isak is. That’s an added bonus that Even will never complain about.


	4. Thursday

“Baby?” Even asks as he moves from the kitchen into the main room looking at his phone and barely managing to avoid the corner of the door.  He still doesn’t quite have the hang of how to move easily in this space without looking. 

“Mmmm?” Isak asks from his position on the bed, sprawled out and surrounded by books and papers.  It’s Thursday, in the middle of a break, and Even isn’t sure why Isak feels the need to study, but here he is.  The TV is on, however, and the Playstation is whirring in the background, so it seems like Isak hasn’t been  _ totally _ focused on work.   He looks up, eyes starting to squint in confusion when Even doesn’t clarify what he wants, and Even shakes himself, remembering why he’d come in here in the first place.

“We don’t have our wifi set up yet.”

“We don’t?”  Isak rolls into a seated position, and looks at Even in confusion.  “I thought we did that on the first day.”

Sitting next to him, Even grins.  “Nope. We talked about it in the morning, but then we were tired later and there were the boys and beer.  And then we didn’t.”

“Shit,” is Isak’s eloquent response.

“We should do it now,” Even says, rummaging around in the closet for the box he knows is here somewhere, the one with the router in it.  “But we need a cool password,” he says, looking over his shoulder at Isak. “Something that has some meaning.”

Isak huffs and rolls his eyes, and something that common shouldn’t be so fucking sexy.  Even thinks he might have developed a pavlovian reaction to Isak’s eye rolls by now; they always set a flutter of butterflies into flight in his stomach.  

“Not some pretentious movie quote, Even, or I swear I’ll move out.”

“You’d move out?” Even says, finally locating what he’s been searching for and backing out of the closet.  He looks back at Isak, with his best  _ I don’t believe you _ expression.

“No.”  A soft smile blooms on Isak’s face and he surges forward to kiss Even, as if the very idea of Even taking his comment seriously upsets him and he needs to prove himself.  “But I’d probably complain a lot.”

"You complain a lot anyway," Even says, winking at Isak who just groans.

"Shut up and suggest a password," he says.

“What about ‘ParisTybalt96’?” Even asks, just to get a reaction out of Isak.  To his delight, Isak looks completely disgruntled. The eye roll this time looks like it could have removed the eyeballs from their sockets and Even just laughs.

“That’s terrible,” Isak says.  “I’d never fucking remember it, even if I knew how to spell it.”

“But that’s the great untold love affair of that movie, baby?  That’s the bit that was missing …”

“You’re a fucking dork,” Isak says.  He pushes Even, looks around at the room they’re sitting in and sighs.  His eyes dart over all the clothes and other laundry they have piled on the chair and dresser and the stuff that has spilled out onto the floor.  “We should do something about this,” Isak says. “The boys are coming to party tomorrow, and they can’t sit if it’s like this.”

“But, baby … our wifi?”

Isak’s already off the bed and bending to pick up the scattered clothing.  He has his back to Even which puts his ass on display, tight against the jeans he’s wearing today as he picks up the first hoodie.  Even’s still not sure if that’s something Isak does on purpose to tease him or if he’s just  _ that _ oblivious to the effect his body has on Even.  Either way, it makes Even forget what he’s doing and the box thumps to the ground as his hands go slack.

“Parallel universes,” Isak says, apparently not noticing why Even just became Captain Clumsy as he folds the hoodie neatly and twists to put it on the bed.  The twist pulls his t-shirt tight on his body, and Even is finding it very difficult to focus on Isak’s words.

“Hmmm?” Even asks as he picks the box up again and starts to try setting it all up.

“The password?” Isak prompts.  “Parallel universes.” He bends over again and Even has to drag his eyes away if he’s ever going to get his job done.  The words send shivers through Even, anyway. Despite Isak’s very vocal and very obvious love for the idea, it still makes Even feel anxious, small and vulnerable.  Still, there  _ was _ one moment of that day that Even remembers very clearly, a moment that relates to his project _. _  A moment that does actually make him go weak at the knees.

“You mean like ‘yellow curtains,’” Even asks, pretending to misunderstand Isak’s suggestion.

Isak looks over at him, fond memory on his face, and smiles again.  “No, you dork, I didn’t mean that.” He stops for a moment, eyes flicking over to Even before he adds, “but I like it.”

The admission is small, and shouldn’t be momentous, but Isak holds Even’s gaze as he says it.  This time the shiver Even feels isn’t from any sort of vulnerability. This time it’s a shared memory, a giddy joy that they can do this.  They can label their wifi something that will only ever make any sense to them. It hits Even again that this is _ their _ own home, where they can have these in jokes and build this space together.  He grins.

“Yellow curtains it is, then,” Even says as he drags his eyes away to wrestle with the set up.  

By the time he’s got it sorted to his satisfaction, Isak is almost done with the laundry.  There are two piles on the bed, but there’s no apparent difference around who owns what clothes.  Even’s confused as to why there are two piles, and that they’re of such different heights. He quirks his eyebrow at Isak in query and Isak blushes.  It’s far more sexy than it has any right to be, though Even supposes that may just be a lingering after-effect of Isak’s body  _ doing things _ to him while he worked.

“It’s the 'clean enough to wear' pile,” he waves his hand at one stack, the smaller one, “and the 'things that need to be washed' pile.”  That one’s much taller and Even winces just looking at it. That’s a chore he’s not looking forward to, and has been putting off for the few days they’ve been here.  Isak looks at Even sheepishly. “I didn’t think it seemed logical to separate into yours and mine. We basically wear all of them anyway.”

Chuckling, Even pulls Isak into a hug.  “Admit it. You just wanted an excuse to wear all my cool stuff.”

Isak squirms until he’s able to put his own arms around Even.  “Nope,” he says, giving Even the cheekiest look. “I’m generously allowing you to wear  _ my _ stuff.”

“You’re really fucking great,” Even says, as he kisses Isak.

“Yeah, you’re pretty decent yourself.” Isak says, giving Even another kiss for good measure.  He glowers at the stuff on the bed, though, and pulls back to lay one hand on the dirty pile. “We need to get this into a washing machine, though.  That’s not going to be pleasant for much longer.” As they look, the taller pile tilts and slides sideways, collapsing onto the bed.

“It’s not pleasant now,” Even says, grinning and Isak wrinkles his nose in agreement.  

“It’s kind of gross,” Isak says.  “We need to get it out of here.”

“What we actually need is a laundry basket,” Even says, thinking about how hard it’s going to be to deal with.  He sighs. “Do we really have to do it today?”

“Yes!  The boys are coming tomorrow!” Isak says, getting that look Even’s starting to recognize.  The one that says he has a plan and is stubbornly going to stick to it, regardless of how easy that plan is going to be to carry out. 

So Even sighs again, and nods.  “How are we getting it all down there?”

Isak considers that for a few moments, then shrugs.  “Bags,” he says, and Even almost moans at the idea. That’s going to require either multiple trips or awkward manoeuvering, and Even’s not keen on either thing.  They gather it all up, and just as Even has feared they’re faced with a large pile of overstuffed bags. The sheets are spilling out of two of them, and their clothes fill even more.  Isak picks up every single one and makes his purposeful way towards the door. He grumbles when Even drags half of them out of his hands as he tries to navigate around the door and into the hallway outside.  They make their way slowly between their apartment and the laundry room, and Isak curses every time he gets stuck rounding a bend.

This all feels so nice, and if Even had his hands free he’d probably be filming right now just to capture the moment.  Isak’s muffled curses blend into the environment and make Even’s heart swell. This is the grumpy, complaining Isak he’s grown to know and love, and as much as he really likes scary and efficient Isak, it’s nice to know that the boy he fell for is still there under this new fucking-great-at-adulting Isak that Even seems to have moved in with.

Isak dumps the bags in front of a machine and sighs as he rips them open and shoves everything in to wash.  “That was so shit,” he says. “We need a better system for next time.”

“It wasn’t great, no,” Even agrees.  “But at least the floor in our place is nice and clean now.”

“Mmmm,” Isak agrees, smiling suddenly and looking much more cheerful.  “Now, we can fit everyone, and …” his voice goes deeper and he smiles wickedly at Even, “now I have somewhere to do my work out.”

Even nods, his throat going dry again.  He pictures Isak on the floor with his muscles flexing and contracting under the t-shirt he’s wearing as he does squats or pushups, and almost dissolves on the spot.  This boy may just be the death of him if he keeps that up. On the other hand, he thinks when Isak looks at him over his shoulder as he exits the room with a spectacular grin and a look that promises everything, Isak working up a sweat and then maybe having to take a shower (possibly not alone) isn’t exactly the worst thing that’s ever happened to Even.  

He trails Isak back up to their apartment, and if he happens to watch his ass as they climb the stairs, well he’s only one man and he feels like he deserves some sort of benefit from the long, tiring trip down to the laundry.  Isak’s grin back down at him suggests he knows exactly what Even is doing, and that he enjoys the promise of the workout and its possible aftermath almost as much as Even. 


	5. Friday

Isak’s fretting.  It’s obvious in the twist of his mouth as he looks around the room, and in the taut lines of his body.  It’s there in the way he fiddles with everything, moving the chairs at the table until they’re perfectly straight, twitching the corner of the duvet on the bed because it’s not quite even on both sides.  He’s been fiddling with it all for at least an hour, and Even’s getting exhausted just looking at him. Isak himself must be close to collapse.

“Baby,” Even says, from his perch leaning up against the door frame and letting the fond exasperation into his voice.  “It’s all fine.”

“I don’t think we’re going to be able to fit everyone,” Isak says, ignoring Even as he gazes around the space again.  “There’s not enough seats.”

Even holds his hand out, and beckons.  “Come here,” he says, and Isak finally looks up, then slips into his embrace, wrapping his own arms around Even’s waist and sighing heavily as he buries his nose in his shoulder.  “It’s all fine, honestly,” Even says. “So what’s the real problem?”

“I don’t know,” Isak says.  “It all feels really intense, being hosts.”

“You’ve hosted before, though?” Even says.  “Lots of times.”

“It’s different when it’s our own place and not the kollektiv,” Isak says.  

He sounds tired and his head is getting heavier on Even’s shoulder.  Smiling softly, because he kind of gets it, Even moves them so they can sit on the bed and he can wrap Isak into his arms a little more thoroughly.  It is daunting, this idea that they’re now masters of their own domain, and everything stands or falls on just the two of them. Still, Even thinks, they’ve got this.  Isak is almost scarily competent at house stuff, and they’ve definitely done a good job of getting the place set up this week. Now’s the time to reap the rewards of all that.

“Well, you know we’re going to be the best hosts,” Even says, allowing himself to skim a kiss over Isak’s hair.  “It’s just the boys. We have some leftover beer in the fridge, in case they don’t remember to bring beer or didn’t get any in time.  We have snacks if they get hungry. We’re masters at going above and beyond.”

Isak huffs a laugh.  “I guess so. They fucking owe us, man.”

“That’s the spirit!” Even cheers.  “I’m excited,” he adds. “It’s our chance to have friends in this space.  We get to show off how awesome and domestic we are.”

Isak snorts.  “We are awesome,” he says, letting himself kiss Even.  It deepens; tongues licking into mouths, hands clenching enticingly in hair, legs sliding over one another.  Then the buzzer rings, startling Isak who jerks back, sliding from his position half over Even’s knee, and ends up on the floor.

“Fuck,” he says, letting his head fall back on the floor with a solid thunk which must be moderately painful though Isak doesn’t even wince.  “What a time for them to arrive. We don’t even live with anyone anymore and we’re still getting interrupted.”

Laughing, Even stands and extends a hand down towards Isak, helping him to his feet.  “To be fair, we did invite them and we did know it was almost time.” He presses a soft kiss on Isak’s lips, whispers, “later,” and steps back to allow Isak to go first.

“Mmmmm,” Isak says, casting a nervous eye towards the door, clearly anxious about greeting his friends again now that the kissing has been put on the back burner.

“Come on, baby,” Even says, holding his hand out for Isak to take.  “Let’s get this party started.”

  
  


“Don’t fucking lie, Isak,” Mahdi is saying.  It’s several hours later, there have been many beers drunk and the evidence is lying scattered over every surface in the apartment.  Even winces when he thinks about the cleanup later, but can’t bring himself to do anything about it right now. “There’s no way you moved that TV in here alone,” Mahdi continues.  “That’s a damn big one and must weigh a shitload coming up all those stairs.”

Looking irritated, Isak shakes his head.  “I’m fucking strong,” he says. “Just because you lot are all useless doesn’t mean I am too.”

“You’re kind of skinny, though,” Magnus adds.  “Like ... weedy. I know you were good with all the boxes and shit, but that’s bigger and a weird shape and not really light.” He points at the TV, which they’ve been using for Fifa.  Not entirely successfully due to the many beers they’ve also been enjoying.

“Fuck you all,” Isak says.  “I can pick up Even and carry him around.  A TV’s nothing after that.”

“He really did,” Even pipes up now, and Magnus’s eyes light up.  Internally, Even groans. He’d meant Isak had done the TV, but it’s very clear where Magnus’s mind has gone.  He catches Jonas’s eye and sees the way his mouth twitches up in amusement.  _ You’re in for it now, _ that mouth seems to say as Jonas takes another drink of his beer, his eyes dancing with amusement.  Jonas has that clear vibe about him which says he’s going to have a lot of fun silently watching this play out.

“He picked you up?” Magnus asks, waving his hand at Even in a manner meant to suggest  _ but you’re so long; there’s so much of you. _  Even nods.  He’s grinning, glances at Isak and sees the fond smirk on his face.  There’s a sense of shared moments, of things the boys will never really understand.  A sense of the reason why they decided to move in together, to gather more of those moments.  “He picked you up and carried you? Seriously?” Magnus’s voice holds disbelief, though there’s a little awed consideration mixed in too.  “There’s no fucking way. Is there?” His expression has now slid into eager excitement. Even nods again. This time the look he sends Isak is more of a query.  He lifts his eyebrow, tilts his lip up into a questioning smile, and asks silently if Isak is game. 

“Fuck it,” Isak says, leaning over to put his beer can down on their coffee table.  “I’m drunk, so if I drop you, Even, it’s your fault.”

He slides off the bed and stands.  This time it’s Isak beckoning Even to come to him and Even can never resist.  Jonas is still sitting quietly sipping his beer, and he still has that amused twinkle in his eyes, but now he sighs.  “You guys are such idiots,” he says. “You want to kill yourselves just because Magnus is a nosy dick?”

“You know Isak,” Even says, laughing as Isak bends to slide his head between Even’s legs.  “Can’t resist a challenge.” His voice is suddenly breathless and high because the bit he’d forgotten in all this is that Isak has to have his head right there by his dick.  And when they were alone and messing around with Even’s phone that was fine. But now they’re not alone anymore, Isak’s strong hands are wrapped around his thighs, Even’s dick is pressed against the back of Isak’s neck and he’s being lifted slowly.  There’s no phone between Even and what’s happening this time and it’s a  _ lot. _  Isak is strong; he does this with relative ease.  At least, ease compared to the way Even struggles whenever he tries to reciprocate.  Isak doing this is almost unbearably sexy. The looks on the other boys’ faces when Isak lifts Even as if it’s hardly a big deal do things to Even’s tummy.

“Well shit,” Magnus says, eyes wide and excited as he watches Isak squat down again.  Even’s eyes drift downwards and that was a fucking mistake because now he can see the muscles straining against Isak’s jeans and all he wants is to be able to throw the boys out of the apartment so Even can feel those thighs under his hands.  He shudders, pulls his eyes back to look at the boys before his dick can embarrass him.

Unable to resist showing off, Isak starts moving, taking small careful steps with Even still balanced on his shoulders.  There’s no room to really get going, though, so Isak reluctantly squats again (again messing with Even’s body in the worst possible way) to let Even down.  He scrambles off Isak’s back with a relieved sigh when he notices that his dick has calmed down enough that he can pretend that he didn’t just get turned on with all the boys watching.

“That doesn’t really count though,” Mahdi says.  “Your shoulders do half the work that way.”

Isak rolls his eyes as he sits down on the bed again and reaches for his beer.  “Yeah, and when I brought the TV up here, my shoulders did half the work too.” He shrugs, looks over at Even and grins.  “You’re just jealous that you’d never be able to do it.” Even smiles, feels like everyone else in the room has been tuned out for a second as he holds Isak’s gaze.  The look Isak’s giving Even tells him that Isak knows exactly what he just did to him, and that he’s just as eager as Even is to follow up on it.

So it’s no surprise that it’s not much later when Isak starts hinting that he’s tired and needs to sleep.  He yawns, wide, then ostentatiously stretches. He lets his body slump down next to Even’s and lays his head on Even’s shoulder.

Jonas laughs.  “You’re a lightweight, Valtersen,” he says as he pokes Isak in the ribs.  “It’s not even 23 yet and you’re falling asleep.”

“Big week, Jonas,” Isak says.  “I’m fucking exhausted.”

“Right, well,” Mahdi says, struggling to his feet from his position on the floor, “we get the hint and we’ll leave you two love birds in peace.”

“You should lift me one day, Isak,” Magnus says as he grabs Even into a hug on his way to the door.  “That was hot.”

“What the fuck, Magnus!  No,” Isak says, looking revolted at the thought.  “If you’re not called Even, you don’t get lifted.”

“But I want to know what it feels like,” Magnus says.  

“Get your own fucking boyfriend then,” Isak retorts.  “I’m not available.” Magnus grumbles all the way out the door about how unfair it is.  That all he wants is to know first hand how it feels for Isak to pick him up.

By the time they’ve all left and Isak has shut the door behind them, Even is laughing.  “Your face, baby,” he says. “He’s just trying to be supportive.”

Isak crinkles his nose, and Even laughs again as he pulls him into a hug.  “That wasn’t so bad, though, was it?”

Isak shakes his head, laughing too.  “Nah.” He looks around at all the beer cans and groans.  “This place is too small for this sort of shit, though. It looks awful.”

“Yeah,” Even agrees.  “But it can wait til tomorrow.  Right now, I want my sexy strong boyfriend to lift me again when there’s no-one looking.”

Isak grins, apparently distracted from the cleaning. That’s a small blessing; as much as Even loves super-efficient Isak, he’d like to go back to comfortable-with-a-more-lived-in-look Isak.  An Isak who was less stressed about his environment even though he was still reasonably clean and tidy. “Yeah,” Isak says, pulling back from the hug far enough to look at Even, “you seemed to like that.”

Even lets everything he felt show in his eyes as he nods.  “I did, baby,” he says his voice husky as he licks his lips.  “A lot. You want to do it again?”

Isak winks at him, clearly enjoying the way he’d made Even react.  “Always. And with no interruptions this time.”

Even pulls Isak towards him again and lets his nose brush Isak’s, a gentle caress before they kiss, deep and intense.  Isak sighs and sways into Even, opening his mouth in invitation. Even complies; who is he to resist Isak, after all? It’s nice that at the end of the day, it’s just the two of them, here in this place they created together.  Having people over is lovely, but it’s lovelier to be alone again enjoying all the potential that holds.


	6. Friday again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are at the end. I couldn't write a fic for Camilla without it going explicit, so ... uh. Enjoy :D 
> 
> Happy Birthday, Camilla! I hope your week has been a good one and that you have a fantastic year to come. <3 you!

“Do you really want to sleep?” Even asks a few minutes later, when his head has stopped spinning from the heady kisses he’s just been given.

Isak lets his hands drift down Even’s back so his fingers can play at the waistband of Even’s pants.  “What do you think?” he asks.

“Well, you do seem very tired,” Even says, smirking at him, knowing exactly the reaction he’s going to get.  “You can’t even hold my ass properly.”

Isak rolls his eyes, and Even feels his heart skipping a beat at the comfortable familiarity of the gesture.  

“Well, you know, you’re a bit fragile,” Isak says, but does slide his hands inside his pants to cup Even firmly and pull him tight into his body.  “I might break you if I hold you too tight.”

Even knows it’s banter, knows Isak is teasing him, and yet he can’t help but react.  The idea of Isak’s strong body being so forceful with his own makes him dizzy with desire. His dick twitches and he groans at the idea.  Isak laughs, pulls him even closer and kisses him, hard. 

“I’m not tired, baby,” he says.  And that’s obvious in the roughness of his voice and the light in his eyes.

“Fuck,” Even groans.  His dick is already responding, clearly still motivated by its earlier brush with Isak’s neck and eager to take it all to its logical conclusion.  The teasing drops away and there’s a new tension in the atmosphere, one that says they both know what’s going to happen and it’s just a question of how long it takes.  They kiss again, this one rougher, more demanding. By the time they break apart, Even’s dick is rigid and he can feel the hard line of Isak’s through his jeans. He steps back, eliciting a grumbling moan from Isak, and laughs as he tugs on Isak’s shirt, silently asking if he can remove it.  

“You have no idea how sexy your body looks when this pulls tight over it,” Even says as he bends to kiss Isak’s chest in appreciation, giving in to the temptation of sliding his hands over all those defined muscles before getting the shirt over Isak’s head and throwing it somewhere. 

Isak laughs, sliding his own hands up Even’s chest and pushing his shirt up with them.  “Don’t think I didn’t notice you looking,” he says, letting himself suck briefly on one of Even’s nipples before looking at Even again with a wicked gleam in his eyes.  “You’re not as subtle as you think.”

Even is fully intending to complain, to argue that he’s actually  _ incredibly _ subtle, but then Isak lets his fingers rest at Even’s zipper, all thought rushes straight to his dick, and Even finds himself thoroughly distracted.   He nods eagerly when Isak raises his eyebrow in query, and almost moans when Isak ends up on his knees after getting Even’s jeans off. That leaves Even naked with Isak’s eyes and mouth right at dick level.  Isak laughs again, attuned to Even’s thoughts as always. He runs one teasing hand up Even’s dick, a slight pressure that inflames rather than dampens the fires in Even’s body, before standing up to pull him into another deep kiss.

Even’s disappointed sigh is lost in the heat of their kiss, but his dick soon makes itself known, protesting at the scratchy feeling of Isak’s jeans as it presses against him.  So Even removes them, dropping to his knees in the process, and then finally  _ finally _ manages to get his hand on the thigh muscles that had so affected him earlier.  He whimpers when the tendons shift beneath his fingers as Isak moves closer, shifting on his feet as if even the few inches between them are too many.  Isak’s dick is so close to Even’s mouth and he can’t resist sucking it in for one second. Isak’s responding, “faen,” in a small, broken voice sends heat through Even’s body.  He kisses Isak’s thigh, enjoying the way that makes the muscles tauten in response.

“God,” Even sighs, running his hands over the trembling muscles.  “All I wanted when you had me on your shoulders was to see these thighs naked again.  The way they look when you squat is so …” he lets out a strangled groan as he remembers, and Isak hums.  There’s a speculative sound in that voice and Even looks up and into Isak’s cheeky gaze. 

“That’s what you want, is it, baby?  Naked lifting?”

And, while Even hadn’t exactly put that thought into words, he can’t deny the way his body responds to that idea.  “Uhhhh …” he manages to say, before he’s been pulled onto his feet and Isak’s head is suddenly right there again, between his legs, forcing Even’s dick against the back of Isak’s neck in a way that’s almost uncomfortable.  Looking down as Isak stands, Even’s mouth goes dry. If those muscles were enticing in his jeans, that’s nothing on what they look like now, taut and shaking slightly. His dick is just as hard as Even’s, and seeing it framed by those legs makes Even’s own dick respond.  He shifts slightly, which dislodges his dick from its spot squashed against Isak’s neck. Suddenly it’s prodding next to Isak’s ear.

“If you’re hinting at something, baby, that’s the wrong spot,” Isak says.  His voice is strained but there’s amusement in it and Even snorts out a startled laugh.

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” he asks, and Isak’s laugh shakes him off balance enough that Even finds himself tipping slightly.  His hands clutch at Isak, one grabbing his hair and the other his shoulder. 

“Ow, fuck,” Isak says.  He’s regained his balance, but now carefully lets Even down again.  “Okay, maybe naked lifting isn’t the best idea,” he adds, rubbing his head ruefully.

“I have the actual best idea,” Even says, and Isak rolls his eyes.

“Does it involve dicks?” Isak asks.  “If it doesn’t involve dicks, I’m not sure I want to know.”

“Definitely has some dicks in there,” Even says, pulling Isak towards him and making sure they’re lined up.  He needs real pressure on his dick or he’s going to explode. Isak’s roll of his hips and gasping kiss suggest he’s on the same page.  “It involves my favorite two dicks in the whole world,” Even adds when they break the kiss.

“The whole world?” Isak says, sniggering.  “That’s a big call.”

“Mmmmhmmm,” Even says.  He leans his forehead on Isak’s and breathes him in.  The pressure on his dick is just enough to fire him up, and he wants to enjoy this, make it last.  As if he gets it, Isak smiles, presses a quick kiss to Even’s lips, then pulls back enough to nod in the direction of the bed.

From there, it’s easy.  They fall into a pattern they’ve come to know intimately.  There’s lube and a condom to hand, there’s falling onto the bed and their legs slotting easily together again.  There’s the simplicity of  _ what do you want? _ And the honesty of  _ I want to be inside you. _  There’s kissing and laughter, there’s breathing and gasping.  But behind all that there’s the new thing they’ve discovered. There’s the knowledge that this is all much  _ more _ now that they don’t have to have one ear out for their families and flatmates.  Not that they’d ever been all that restrained, but there’s a new freedom in knowing there can be no interruptions.

“Fuck,” Even breathes as Isak slides his fingers into him.  “That’s so … ah,  _ fuck.” _  The last word comes out on a groan as Isak hits his prostate.  There’s so much Even wants to say, so much love he wants to pour out into this space between them, but he’s caught in an amber moment of time where all his focus is on the one point with Isak’s fingers and words are refusing to form on his lips.

Isak’s other hand is steady on his hip and his eyes are firmly fixed on Even’s.  There’s so much tenderness in the curve of his lip and in his expression as he watches Even’s face move with every stroke of his fingers.

“You okay, baby?” Isak asks, sliding his fingers out and reaching for the condom.  The loss of the intensity returns Even’s voice to him and he nods.

“Yeah,” he says.  “Fuck, yeah.”

Isak laughs, rolls the condom on, then leans up so he can kiss Even.  “You’re so easy to please.”

Even takes Isak’s face in his hands, and pulls him in for another searing kiss.  “You just please me, no matter what you do.”

“You’re a fucking sap,” Isak says as he moves back to line himself up.  He pushes in, and Even sighs in appreciation. He grabs Isak’s ass, pulling on it until Isak is snug against him, pressing Even’s legs back towards his chest.  Isak leans forward, far enough to hold Even’s head gently in his hands as he thrusts, kissing Even whenever the mood takes him. It’s slow, the long drag of each thrust pressing against Even’s prostate again and again until he can’t keep quiet.

Isak kisses Even’s shoulder, at the sensitive juncture where it meets his neck, and Even shudders, shivering at the sensation.  His whole body is sensitized, so his dick responds to the kiss in predictable fashion, drawing attention to its aching need. He takes hold of it, squeezing his hand in between the two of them, and the relief is instantaneous.  The heat is still there, though, and the pressure is building. Even strokes himself in time with Isak’s thrusts, and it’s so much, he’s so filled with Isak, surrounded by him. He can’t contain it all in the small breathy gasps, has to kiss it onto Isak’s lips.  Isak’s fingers tighten in Even’s hair, curling it around them as he tries to press closer. 

Soon Even is panting, the fingers of his other hand clutched on Isak’s back as they move together.  They’ve stopped trying to kiss, their attempts having become more like open mouthed breathing into each other.  Now Even has his face in Isak’s shoulder and they’re speeding up. It’s uncoordinated, almost rough now, Isak’s thrusts getting steadily faster as they both rush towards a climax.  Even pushes back, trying to match his pace to Isak’s, but his hand is faltering on his dick and his body is refusing to follow directions. Even knows he’s close, can feel it in the tightness of his balls and the sharpness of his breaths.  Dimly, he can feel Isak’s body tauten and the way his hips stutter as he reaches his orgasm. He can feel Isak’s tired lips on his chest as Even follows behind him, his hand squeezing at the end of every stroke until he is overtaken by his own shuddering release and everything disappears for one long, explosive moment.

Even comes back to himself with Isak lying tight into his side, with his leg tucked over Even’s.  They’re still covered in come, though Isak has removed the condom and tossed it to the side. Even huffs a laugh.  “That’s not very clean and tidy,” he says, nodding in the direction of the discarded condom.

“Eh,” Isak says, his voice sleepy and content.  “I’ll fix it tomorrow.”

Smiling, happy that isak really does seem to be relaxing about keeping the place perfect, Even wraps his arm around him and pulls him close.  He knows they’ll regret not cleaning themselves later, but for now it feels more important to enjoy this moment. He kisses Isak’s hair, because he can, because he wants to.  Isak’s happy sigh reverberates through Even.

“First time in our new place,” he says and Isak snorts.

“Not fucking likely,” Isak says.  “That was the first day. Or is your memory that bad?”

“First time after we kicked people out just to bang?” Even tries.

“Nope,” Isak says.  “Also that first day.”

“First time after our first party in our first home together,” Even finally says, triumphantly.

Isak laughs.  “Dork,” he says.  “Why’s it so important to be first?”

“I just like having firsts with you,” Even says.  “It feels nice. I want to do it forever.”

“Mmmmm,” Isak agrees, snuggling closer, his voice thick with approaching sleep.  “It is nice. But there are lots of firsts to come, and seconds and thirds are good too.”

A few minutes later, as he reluctantly slips out from under a sleeping Isak to clean up, Even ponders that idea.  What isak said about seconds and thirds is true, but Even’s been so caught up in the novelty of the firsts and the responsibility of the new.  They both have. Isak’s right, though, and now’s the time to enjoy the repeats, the routines, the small moments. Those moments have snuck in all week, and Even’s been documenting them, but it’s only now that it all crystallizes.  This is their life now. It’s just the two of them, repeating the little things over and over, getting to grow closer every time they do so. It’s small and it’s huge. And it’s theirs. Here in their own home, they get to live. 


End file.
